


Compatibility

by felismargarita39, kyluxtrashcompactor



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felismargarita39/pseuds/felismargarita39, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren is a former Jaeger pilot with a troubled past. Hux is Marshall of his Shatterdome, who feels more for Ren than he would like to admit. But when a disaster happens during a battle with a Kaiju, they will be brought together in ways neither would have ever expected, each fulfilling a dream harbored in the soul of the other. In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compatibility

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“It’s a category three! It’s nothing!” Ben’s voice is exuberant, almost laughing, and as he glances over at his father’s face, he sees him smiling back at him: that same lopsided, toothy grin that Ben inherited.

Han is strapped alongside him in the Jaeger, their neural links working in complete accord. It’s surprising that they are such a fit for one another when on the other side, they barely manage to be civil to one another. Han thinks Ben is reckless and irresponsible. Ben likes to drink and bask in his popularity. And why not? He deserves it.

The Kaiju is codenamed Whiplash, for its massive whiplike tail that it used to smash a Jaeger backward with such force even the pilot’s suspension sets didn’t take the impact well.

With Kaiju, however, it is never _just_ anything, and this day is no exception. Even though all calculations had indicated that they should expect only one kaiju this wave, a familiar churning to their right catches Ben and Han’s attention. Han pales, seeing how close this unwelcome surprise is to their Jaeger, and Ben can feel his trepidation.

“We’ve got an uninvited guest!” he announces over their connection to the command centre. “Going to need some help, and fast!” He then glances at Ben. “We need to pull back,” he says. “We’ll watch it for a bit, see what it can do, let the science department do their thing, get some backup.”

Ben, however, can already see that this kaiju is only a Cat 2, no big deal, nothing he and his father can’t handle. Han is an expert and Ben has enough raw talent that this new addition to the battle will hardly make a difference.

“Dad, we can do this! Look at it, we could take this one on in our sleep.” He shoots Han a cocky grin. “We take this little one out, then go after Whiplash, no sweat. If another Jaeger gets here to help mop up before we’re done, fine. But there’s no reason to just stand here doing nothing while we wait.”

Ben doesn’t fully recall what happens next, though he vividly remembers the way the gigantic faceplate sags open, broken mesh and metal and glass mixed with sparking wire, and the way his father’s chest is caved in and how Ben can’t get to him no matter how hard he’s trying to crawl out of his harness and screaming his name over and over even as his Jaeger collapses and sea water rushes in and he can’t breath though he’s still trying to scream for his father…

_“REN!”_

Suddenly Ben is jerked to the surface, and there is air to breath, and his hands fly out to grasp the arm that is poised over him, a hand firmly on his shoulder. His throat is raw, his vision blurred with tears. He blinks up, seeing a familiar face that both comforts him because it grounds him, yet also reminds him that the dream was not _just_ a dream. His father is dead. And it was Ren’s fault.

He calls himself that now, because that had been the name of their Jaeger. The one that is now at the bottom of the sea, destroyed, and his father’s grave.

Hux looks down at the wet, reddened face of the man on the bed, then at the hands that grasp his arm in an almost painfully tight grip. He forces his concerned expression away, leaving his face with its usual mask of blank neutrality. “Please don’t crush my arm, Ren. I’ll probably need to use it at some point today,” he says. He allows a faint smirk to cross his lips, letting the other man know that he is not truly upset with him.

Ren lets go of the arm he had latched on to, then frowns at the man standing over him. “If you don’t want you arm crushed, don’t touch me when you wake me up. You’re lucky I didn’t punch you.”

It is true that Hux would normally never use physical contact to wake Ren; his violent nightmares and overall temperament make it a bad idea generally. However, he had been trying to rouse the other man for at least five minutes by every other method he had at his disposal, and nothing had worked. Had it been anyone else, he would have simply left them to wake on their own. It was not anyone else, though. It was Ren.

Hux had formed an interest in Ben almost as soon as he had first spoken to him. He was cocky, loud, arrogant, and volatile. He was everything Hux wished he could be and would never allow in himself. At first his feelings ran toward a kind of annoyed envy, but as he got to know the younger man, he found himself, to his dismay, becoming attracted to and infatuated with him. It frightened him, since any attachment to a ranger in his ‘Dome would be a potential weak point that could threaten an important part of his work as Marshall: staying strong so that the people in his care could also be strong. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he behaved even more coldly and snappishly to him than he usually would, hoping to make Ben dislike him, to drive him away. It worked, up to a point. He had earned Ben’s irritation, but had not extinguished his own feelings for the man.

After the disaster with Han Solo, everything changed. Ben had suffered a complete breakdown. He could barely be made to eat, to rest, to do anything. When he finally did fall asleep, he would wake less than half an hour later to screaming nightmares that put the ones he had nowadays to shame. He had been, to put it very mildly, a mess. Not that he was really stable now, but there was still no real comparison.

Hux could no longer bring himself to push the devastated man away. He spent as much time as he could take away from his duties as Marshall to help Ben recover as best as he could. When he needed to eat, Hux brought him food. When he needed rest, Hux sat by his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. When the other man screamed at him for the first time that Ben Solo was dead, that his name was Ren, he never needed to be told again. He did everything he could to help restore some semblance of life to the man he had come to realise he cared for more than anyone else, more than he wanted to admit.

Ren, for his part, rapidly and obviously became attached in return. Within the span of two weeks he was actively seeking Hux’s attention, rather than snarling at him to go away. He would only talk to Hux, only eat when he was there, only sleep with him by his bedside. It worried the Marshall, but there was little else he could do than be there for Ren and give in to his demands. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want to think about it, or about the fact that the other man would likely never be able to pilot again, when that had clearly been what he loved and lived for. He also felt guilty about what he was doing. He had no idea if Ren had been interested in him before all of this happened, but he probably wouldn’t have been so accepting of Hux’s attention if he hadn’t been so hurt.

Ren’s expression softens by degrees as the nightmare fades, and he sees the unmistakable expression of care on Hux’s features. While Hux is five years or so older than Ren, his expression is not condescending. It is indeed compassionate, as is the hand that comes to rest in Ren’s sleep-tousled, sweaty brown hair. Suddenly, all Ren wants is to be closer to him, to cross that barrier that Hux has not yet allowed them to cross. He wants to forget, to drown in some feeling other than the intense guilt that he had let his father die.

“Hux,” he says, untangling an arm from the bedclothes so that he can rest a hand on the other man’s thigh. “Stay with me.”

Hux sighs, trying not to let too much of the warmth Ren’s words inspire in him show on his face. “I have a meeting with the science division in less than half an hour. But I suppose I have a few moments to spare.” With that, he indicates that Ren should move over a bit, and when he has, Hux gets onto the bed next to him, lying on top of the covers.

“Less than half an hour is more than enough time, don’t you think?” Ren purrs into Hux’s ear as he gathers himself into the Marshall’s arms.

He has flirted like that with Hux more than once, and with the way Ren’s eyes always flick to the high color in the Marshall’s cheeks, he enjoys flustering him. Whether he means that he wants more, Hux is not sure.

Though he has often fantasised about the sorts of things he would like to do with Ren, Hux is always held back by the notion that he is taking advantage of the attachment that he created by being kind while the other man was so broken. He had long since decided that anything more than their usual physical affection would have to be initiated by Ren. So he simply presses his face to the other man’s neck, replying, “Yes, it’s certainly enough time to enjoy your company,” hiding from the expression of disappointment that his actions have created.

Hux feels the rise and fall of Ren’s shoulders, though the other man doesn’t press the issue. He seems to be waiting for Hux to make some sort of move, and the look on his face is one the Marshall has seen before. He doubts Ren even truly knows where his reticence comes from, though Hux tries not to ever give him the impression of outright rejection. Why else would he be curled here on the bed, in full dress uniform, with a man likely naked beneath his tangled sheets?

The thought makes Hux blush to his toes, like a damned teenager. It doesn’t help when he feels Ren’s lips moving against his neck, though the younger man is only speaking.

“I wish I could sleep one night without dreaming of him. Just one. Or if I could have done something better.” Ren’s arm snakes around Hux’s back, and a knee, still beneath the covers, slips between Hux’s thighs in a way that is definitely _not_ indicative of just two men lying side by side for mutual comfort.

Hux gasps slightly, wondering if he is misreading the situation, then speculating that it would be incredibly difficult to misread what Ren is doing. He very much doubts that there is any other meaning to be had from where that knee is pressed. Slowly, he pulls his face back from Ren’s shoulder, looking him full in the face to read the man’s expression, so he can stop himself the instant it is clear that his actions are unwanted. Then, he lightly presses himself against the leg at his groin.

“Ren,” Hux asks hesitantly, “what exactly are you doing? Do you need to stretch your leg out? Is it sore?” He knows he sounds a bit of an idiot right now, especially considering the way he is currently (and fairly obviously) only seconds away from letting himself grind on Ren’s knee. He can’t help but feel guilty, though. The thought that he is taking advantage of the other man persists, though he knows that if he were as logical about their relationship as he is everything else, he would accept that Ren’s interest in him is no longer founded in desperation, if it ever was. Instead of actually addressing any of this, however, he chooses as usual to deflect and hide his uneasiness. Asking about Ren’s leg as he did may make him sound like a twit, but at least it doesn’t make him feel like he needs to run away.

Ren's hazel eyes are dark in the dim interior of his quarters, but Hux can still read the expression there, and it makes him swallow. It is wanting, pining even, like a child starving in the winter cold, like a creature that needs rescuing.

And that is how Ren feels, as though somehow, some taste of this man will be like the first sweet drink of water after endless parched days wandering the desert sands. Ren slides a hand out from between them, and gingerly touches Hux's face, taking care to brush a thumb over his lips. Those lips part at his touch, and Ren can see the pupils widen in the pale eyes: he is no stranger to the manifestation of desire in others. He has seen it often enough, if not lately. No one wants to come near him anymore, except Hux: not even to sate the need that builds as the war clock constantly ticks down, reminding every man of his mortality.

With that thought, Ren tilts his chin, feeling the marshall's smooth cheek with the side of his nose, turning his face in, seeking his mouth, wanting to drown in him, to...

The klaxon alarm that resounds through the base does not startle either of them, for they have heard it too many times; it is the harbinger of doom, the admonishment to a world that stubbornly refuses to die.

The two of them merely freeze, as though the sound had stopped time for them, even though time was flooding past in another way, irrevocable and demanding. A Kaiju was rising from the Breach, and Hux must necessarily untangle himself from this moment of near gratification, resolution, and rally to the command center.

Before he can stir, Ren's hand clamps down hard on his hip. Ren could have chosen anywhere to keep Hux from fleeing, somewhere less personal, but he did not.

"Let me come with you," he says, the old thrill of battle intermixed with a deep-rooted need for Hux to _allow_ him what he asks. Anything he asks.

“Of course you can come with me, as long as you don’t interrupt me while I’m working,” Hux says with a small smile. Even though he is technically not supposed to allow Ren into the command centre during an attack, since he has no real function during the battle, no one would dare tell the Marshall to send him out as long as he doesn’t get in the way. Ren also often has insights into the fight that Hux appreciates, so keeping the man by his side at times like these has proven tactically advantageous in the past.

Ren rolls his eyes and mutters, “I’ve never gotten in the way. I don’t know why you think you need to tell me that every time.”

“No, you’re right. You don’t. We need to hurry, though, and arguing won’t get us where we need to be any faster.” Having said the last word on the matter, Hux rushes ahead before Ren can think of something clever to say in return.

By the time they get there, however, the fight is already all but over. The Kaiju is a Category 2, usually no real problem at all, but one of its attacks is as-yet unheard of and unexpected. Instead of using its tail to lash out, it uses it to stab out with a scorpion-like tip. While the father and son team of Renton and Theiren had delivered what would prove to be a death-blow to the Kaiju, it has managed to use that attack to devastating effect on their jaeger.

In the aftermath, staff are running around, trying to determine how bad the damage is, and Deputy Marshall Leia Organa is desperately attempting to get some information from the Jaeger itself. The damage has affected the comms equipment inside, and the static is preventing the command centre from hearing what the pilots are saying. It sounds as though both are alive, but if that’s really true, and will remain that way if so, are completely uncertain. Ferro, the communications director, is doing his best to fix the problem, but not getting very far.

Organa, having been assured that the kaiju is dead or close to it, gives the order to retrieve the pilots just as Ren and Hux enter the room. She gives the Marshall all the information she has, and Hux approves the decision. The badly damaged jaeger is brought in, a mangled cockpit on display, and everyone fears that the worst has happened. Even as the true extent of what happens becomes clear from the repair bay’s report, that fear refuses to abate.

The chaos in the room is complete, and it infects Ren, more so than usual because the fight has stirred memories. The team is father and son, and in a way he feels like he is the one who is limping in from the cold sea to face dark reality, and the loss of his purpose, all over again. While the Kaiju had been defeated, barely, half of the jaeger’s deck had been torn away, and Renton, one of their last two pilots, had suffered severe burns from a loose electrical cable which had caught him one eye. He’d be out for months.

"What are we going to do now?" Ferro is shouting over the din, and it is a testament to the desperate state the base is in. Hux usually inspires calm, rational behavior among the men and women that serve here, but this was their last team of rangers.

"Let me pilot again," Ren interrupts, loudly, taking a step closer to Hux, for he needs the Marshall's permission.

Ferro lets out a guffaw of incredulity, and Ren glares at him before swinging a wild gaze back on Hux.

Hux’s heart sinks straight to the ground. He hates to deny Ren anything, hates to disappoint him, loathes the feeling that he is making life any more difficult than it already is for the man he...loves. He can’t deny it anymore, in this moment. He has always known he cares, but now he must be entirely honest with himself. He loves Ren. And he cannot watch him tear himself apart. Not even for the sake of the whole world. But with that knowledge comes fear, fear that making his feelings obvious will make him weak, make him vulnerable. He has to use logic to dissuade Ren.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. You can’t pilot a jaeger alone, it’s impossible. And we already know that Theiren isn’t drift compatible with you, we’ve tried. He’s the only pilot left here, now, so I’ll have to find someone at another ‘Dome who’s compatible with him. It will be difficult, but doable, I’m sure. We aren’t doomed, or done-for, or finished, or whatever overdramatic nonsense one of you was almost certainly about to start shouting any second now. We still have options, and no,” here he turns his glance fully on Ren, “you piloting a jaeger isn’t one of them.”

Ren's mouth falls open upon a multitude of retorts. It is a testament to the the respect and the powerful feelings he has for the Marshall, bordering on worship, perhaps, that the first arguments that formulate are logical. That in itself is strange for him, for he is a creature of emotion. It passes through his mind to say _"I am the best pilot you have, and you need me. I can do this. It's been long enough. You've helped me."_

But then the dominant Ren takes over, and his brow beetles, and his eyes narrow as blood pressure spikes, coloring his olive cheeks a burnished red.

"When are you going to stop treating me like a fucking broken child?" Ren growls, glaring at Hux, unable to process the look of hurt and negation on the Marshall's face.

Hux, who thought he couldn’t possibly feel any worse about having to tell Ren “no,” suddenly finds that he is entirely capable of just that. His face tightens in an expression of frustrated disgust, mostly aimed at himself. He wants to retort, wants to tell the other man that he has been doing no such thing, but the words die before he has even begun to open his mouth. Because, really, that’s exactly what he’s been doing, hasn’t it?

Ren clearly is interested in him, but the Marshall shuts him down at every turn when it seems they might go beyond simple touches. He doesn’t want to take advantage, but he also never asks what Ren actually wants for himself. Even if his motivation has been the care he feels for the ranger, how would he know that? Hux never says how he feels, never explains what holds him back, never asks for any input on what Ren thinks or feels. Even worse, much of his reasoning is selfish and based in his own fear. He behaves as though he knows what’s best for them both. It’s not fair to Ren, and Hux has no right to keep acting this way. His expression falls to guilty anguish.

“I’m...I’m sorry. You’re right. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t broken. I...” Hux looks around, having momentarily forgotten in his distress that he and Ren are not even remotely alone right now. His face firms to stern neutrality. “I...think we should discuss this in private,” he says with as much dignity as he can muster.

Ren's muscles are tensed, fingers flexing to snatch the nearest stool from the floor and slam it into a console in his fury, but Hux's expression, the way he lowers his tone, belays him. It is not out of sudden commitment to comportment, but simply surprise. Confusion. He is used to his rages ending in shouting matches or fist fights, not calm requests for private discourse.

He deflates, and simply turns and walks from the room, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as though he'd been given an order he was ashamed to comply with, but unable not to. He tumbles into the hall and leaves the steel door open behind him, then flees toward the hanger platform, to the nook where he always hides to watch repairs on the Jaegers. Hux will know where to look.

Seeing the direction in which Ren has fled, Hux correctly guesses that it is the recessed area of the wall to the left of the repair bay that will be the location of their discussion. He heads that way, almost meandering in his desire to go as slowly as possible so that he may think of what to say before he arrives, wanting both to defuse Ren’s temper and to reassure him that he is valued, respected. As he walks, he realises that there really is only one way to go forward from here. Hux must tell him how he feels. When he reaches Ren, the other man is glowering at him. He clearly has something to get off his chest, and Hux figures he at least owes him the right to be heard.

Ren watches as Hux's lithe frame slips in to share the small space that Ren has carved out for himself, where the fallen ranger can remember and dream. He has difficulty reading the Marshall's expression, but he is too frustrated to delve deeply.

"Everyone looks at me like you're looking at me now. With pity," Ren snaps, even though he misjudges Hux's feelings in his temper. "That, and like I’m some bomb, waiting to go off, and take the base down with me. I have thirteen ... we had... thirteen kills. No one else has come close."

“I am not pitying you!” Hux growls, immediately on the defensive. “Don’t tell me how I feel and then get angry at me for it when you haven’t got it right!” Internally, he flinches at his own words, knowing how stupid they are for him to say, that he’s already messing this up. He wants to tell Ren he loves him and that he’s afraid, and instead he’s attacking the man. Not only that, but he’s berating him for making assumptions about his emotions, when that’s rather like what he’s been doing to Ren. So now he isn’t helping the situation, and he’s a hypocrite. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to upbraid himself for his spectacular failure to deal with his own feelings. 

Ren glares at him. "Then what? You think I'm dangerous? Incapable?"

Something within Hux snaps, then. Some wall, built long ago, some dam that he had put in place before he and Ren had ever met. Something which he no longer even remembered exists, a barrier between himself and his feelings, and himself and other people. He notices it now, as it crumbles, notices its absence. Clenching his fists to keep Ren from seeing how his hands tremble, he leans in and keeps his voice as calm as he can.

“This isn’t about whether or not I think you’re capable! That’s not why I don’t want to send you out there,” he grits out. “The problem is that you’re the most important thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m terrified that one of those monsters is going to rip you away from me. And if that happens I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t think I could be bothered to keep fighting if I lost you.” He’s practically panting with the effort of keeping himself from shouting, eyes slammed shut against the possible look on Ren’s face. He doesn’t have any idea what the man will say in answer, and almost dreads whatever he is about to hear in response.

Ren's angry glare becomes a wide eyed, shocked stare as Hux delivers this unexpected soliloquy, naming secret things, things Ren has hoped for but not dared to voice aloud. But, if honest with himself, he has all but begged for this. He has ever only allowed Hux to comfort him after his father's death. Not even his mother, Hux's second in command, could reach Ren. It was Hux Ren had sought to cling to in the darkness, because he wanted this nameless something. This something that would not fill the hole that his father has left, but cauterize it.

Without a word, Ren snaps a hand out and fists it in the marshall's pristine, pressed black tunic and tugs the man to his chest, kissing him hard.

Hux’s eyes shoot open as he feels himself being grasped by the fabric at his chest, fearing that he has indeed gone too far, that all Ren wants is comfort and an ear to listen when he is lonely. In less than a second that idea is blown entirely out of his mind as warm lips press insistently against his own. He gasps lightly at the feeling, and Ren takes immediate advantage, swiping his tongue into the Marshall’s mouth. Hux’s own tongue eagerly meets it. His natural inclination in the moment is to shove Ren against the wall and take what he has wanted for so long, but for now Hux surrenders to him in unspoken apology for not being more forthright before now.

As their mouths dance together, Hux notices something a bit...different. He has kissed other people before, though not often, and it was always what he would call pleasant. However, with Ren, a strange warmth flows through him. He had grown up in a place that was stormy more often than not, and even when no rain actually fell, the clouds would still make the sky a dismal ceiling most days. The only time the sun really shone was during the short summers, when the sky would clear for an hour or two at a time. The sensation he is getting from this kiss is very similar to the one he would get as a boy, when the clouds would briefly part, and the sun would stream down, and he would run outside and soak up as much of the light and heat as he could while he had the chance. This kiss makes him feel like the sun is shining, for the first time in his life, directly on his soul.

Unfortunately, the reality that they are still in danger has not left, and as exultant as he feels about the way this situation has turned out, Hux still has a duty to his staff and the world. Pulling away from Ren’s mouth reluctantly, he looks Kylo in the eyes and addresses the problem that their mutual affection has not lessened in the least.

“Hopefully you believe me when I say that I have absolute faith in your ability as a ranger. However, there’s still the matter of a jaeger needing two people to work. I know it’s disappointing,” he says, “but it would be much easier for us to find someone who’s compatible with Theiren than with you. That’s not a personal insult, it’s a scientific reality. I’m sorry, Ren, but you still probably won’t be able to fight. We’d have to find someone who could drift with you, and your brainwave patterns make that unlikely.”

Ren looks at him with dark eyes, blackened not only desire but with memory. Memory of the way it felt to share someone's soul, their memories, their mind.

"Did you not just feel that? We are drift compatible. I know it. And I know it’s always been your dream, Domhnall… not to just build, but to pilot. You can. With me.”

Ren’s words are excited, muddled with too many feelings for the cramped space they occupy and the lack of time that always plagues them. He is still flush against Hux, lips only inches from his, and realizes he asks this as much for the Marshall’s sake as for his own. He _needs_ it, but so does Hux.

Hux frowns slightly, surprised by the use of his given name, and considering what Ren has said. “I did feel _something_ different than the usual, yes. What was that, exactly? You seem to have an idea. And even if we are drift compatible, I don’t think I would be able to be a ranger. I don’t have the training, and I’m probably not strong enough. I’m not really confident in my ability to fight like you can.”

Ren brushes the backs of his fingers over Hux’s cheekbone, thinking of all the long nights this man had monitored the command center, of the work he’d put into piecing together the remarkable feats of engineering that had produced some of the most unique jaegers. His mind and his spirit are strong.

“You have fought this whole time, Domhnall. Perhaps not in a Jaeger. But you are a warrior, as am I.” Then Ren smirks, and cannot help but take Hux’s bottom lip in his teeth, and bite softly, flicking it with his tongue.

“And what do you mean, _feel something different than the usual_? Do you hide in alcoves and slip your tongue into the mouth of every ranger, or just mine?”

Hux flushes a bright red at that last bit, stammering, “No, no, of _course_ I don’t go about with all...I haven’t...you don’t actually...I mean,” he stops a moment, takes a breath, then tries again. “Of course I don’t do that. I only meant that I have kissed a few people other than you in my life, and while it was nice, it wasn’t... _warm_ with them, like it was with you. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

He ponders what Ren said about his status as a warrior. “I’m glad you appreciate my contributions to the fight, but I think you may overestimate my capabilities. It’s true that I’m an excellent tactician, but that doesn’t necessarily translate well to actual martial skill. Just because I know where others should land a hit, that doesn’t mean I can throw the punch. You really think I could fight in a jaeger?” he wonders.

“I know it,” Ren whispers, brushing his lips again, lingering, running his hand down Hux’s arm. “With me beside you, with you beside me, we can win this thing.”

Hux sighs, nuzzling into Ren’s neck, and decides to give in. “I’m not sure if I believe that, but I _want_ to, very much. You have so much faith in me, I have to at least try. What’s the worst that can happen? Well, other than the total extermination of humanity, of course,” he muses, as Ren hits him lightly in the chest with a snort. “Then again, it’s better than nothing, which is probably what we would have ended up with. We don’t really have time to find anyone else, do we?”

“We don’t need anyone else,” Ren promises. “Just us.”

 

[Here](http://i.imgur.com/1NrcolL.png) is the art for this fic by the lovely [Riakomai](http://riakomai.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. [Here](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/145409674770/compatibility-felismargarita39-kyluxtrashcompactor) we are on Tumblr!

 


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